Broken: Drabbly Things
by Nephthys Moon
Summary: A series of drabbles, some connected, some not, most featuring Usagi/Mamoru, across all verses. Beware, for here there may be angst, adult themes, alternate universe, and sap (sometimes).
1. 091 Only Human

_**Opening note:**__ So, my best friend, profoundlycan, and I were marveling over the fact that there are some writers who can complete 500 drabbles in a single fandom - we've struggled to complete much simpler challenges. I'm a little on the prolific side, but my fandom interests are so varied that I sometimes have a hard time focusing on any one fandom for any period of time, let alone long enough to complete a challenge like this. So, we decided to create a prompt table for ourselves and challenge ourselves to actually complete it by the end of 2013. Our rules are pretty simple. We must actually write 100 individual drabbles, though they can be mini-series like if some of the prompts go together. They cannot be longer than 1000 words (I can get really wordy, as this note is proving). If anyone is actually interested in seeing the prompt table, I can provide a link. It did not have to be all the same pairing, but I'm going to try to make all of these Usagi/Mamoru, and I'll try to make them not so trite as this first one. It's been a long time since my Sailormoon muse spoke to me. The title is 'Broken' simply because for much of the time these two are together, things are - well, broken between them._

**091. – Only Human**  
**Words: 387  
11/22/12**

He told himself that it was stupid. Hell, he told himself that it was illegal. She was fourteen. Just thinking some of the things he thought about her could get him in trouble with some people if anyone in his vicinity could suddenly develop telepathy when she was around – people like Makoto, for example, who jealously guarded the girl with a fierceness that belied the femininity she desperately tried to bury under her tough-as-nails exterior. It would certainly get him killed by her father, who was rumoured to keep a shotgun nearby at all times just for such things – things like keeping the innocence of his daughter sacred.

He told himself all of this, every day when she walked in, impossibly long legs and beautiful smile beaming (a smile he couldn't help notice falling the moment she spotted him). He couldn't seem to help himself, though. He saw her; he wanted her. He wanted to breathe in the fragrance that only she seemed to possess, that special blend of jasmine and orange blossoms and sunshine itself that he was lucky enough to have savoured on a few rare occasions and had tried, unsuccessfully to find in bottled form, describing it to every perfume counter in the city like a madman. He wanted to see her lips drift into that soft smile she reserved for his alter-ego, Tuxedo Kamen, whenever the blighter's name was mentioned – he was so far gone he was even jealous of his own secret identity! He wanted to be close enough to see the little drops of chocolate milkshake that sometimes clung to her lips, and the way her tiny pink tongue would dart out to chase them, drawing their sticky sweetness into the deep recesses of her mouth, and he wanted to follow it with his own. He saw her – and he wanted.

She walked in, sunny smile in place, calling cheerfully to her friends in their favourite booth before asking Motoki for a shake. She noticed him in the barstool next to where she stood at the counter, and she stiffened, her smile dropping to a grimace, and he smelled it, her fragrance, and he had to shift in his chair, grateful for her innocence, her ignorance that he always teased her about.

He saw her; he wanted. He was only human.


	2. 080 Breathe

**080. Breathe**  
**Shattered**  
**Words: 407**  
**11/22/12**

Falling, shattered. That's how she felt, every time she looked at him. Like she couldn't even draw a breath. It was there in the way he'd accidentally got drawn into one of their conversations about which Senshi's powers were stronger, which one was better. Each girl, naturally, had defended her own alter-ego, and demanded he take their side. Usagi had stopped her defence of Sailor Moon the instant he'd walked up, terrified of what he'd say about her counterpart, unable to bear it if he criticised her as harshly as the others always did.

_And why wouldn't he_, she groaned inwardly. _She really was the worst_.

"Yes, Mamoru-san, tell us which of the Sailor Senshi you think is the most powerful!" Rei had demanded in her flirtatious way, after listing off all of Sailor Mars' many attributes. The others merely rolled their eyes.

"Sailor Moon," he said simply. "I can't believe any of you are arguing for any of the others. All they do is fire attacks to distract the monsters while she delivers the blow that actually destroys it. Have any of you actually even witnessed a youma battle before? Sailor Moon is the strongest, bravest girl I've ever seen, hands down."

After dropping his little bombshell, he'd walked away, leaving them all stunned. Rei had immediately launched into a tirade about how obviously he knew nothing about how many times they had to save her sorry but from getting fried and how if she were better, they wouldn't have to fire so many of their 'puny' attacks to give her time to destroy the youma. It had taken Ami a good ten minutes to calm her down. The others were still staring at the back of the man who had delivered his speech so passionately.

"Wow, Usagi-chan," Makoto said softly, as Rei walked out the door fuming. "I had no idea he admired you so strongly."

"He doesn't admire me," Usagi said miserably. "He admires Sailor Moon." She grabbed her schoolbag and left the arcade, going home to her room, where she could stare in the mirror and try to see 'the strongest, bravest girl' Mamoru knew. All she saw was the clumsy, awkward Odango Atama from the arcade that he couldn't stand. Her eyes blurred, and the two sides of herself merged in the mirror for a brief second, but she still couldn't breathe. This was one thing that even Sailor Moon couldn't fix.


	3. 021 Naked

**021. Naked**  
**Naked**  
**Words: 638**  
**11/22/12**

His psychology teacher had once told him that if you really wanted to know someone, you had to see them naked. There were a million ways he'd imagined seeing Tsukino Usagi naked, of getting to know her better than anyone else did, but when he finally did, he realized he'd completely misunderstood those words.

Naked wasn't about skin. It was freezing cold outside and she was bundled from head to toe the day he saw Usagi naked. The only skin she had showing was on her face. He'd noticed how she would flinch when he'd reference Sailor Moon in front of her; he thought it was funny that she'd idolise the teen hero when they really were so much alike that it hurt him sometimes. Besides, it was their thing to tease each other, to see who could get in the best shot – and he'd won that day. Or lost, depending on your perspective, he supposed.

She'd stiffened immediately after he told her she had absolutely nothing in common with Tokyo's beloved heroine, and she had a better chance of flying to the Moon than aspiring to be like her. He thought the reaction had been rage, but when she'd turned, he'd seen a glimmer of something in those blue eyes he practically worshipped that he'd never seen before: anguish. And then she'd run.

How she'd run, too! He'd had to use some of his extra power to keep up with her, and when she'd finally collapsed near the base of a tree, he could see that he hadn't just gotten in a good shot that time, he'd hit far below the belt. She was crying; not her usual loud wails, but true, bone-deep sobs that seemed to come from her soul itself. He knelt down beside her.

"Usagi?" he asked, dropping all honorifics in his concern for her.

"Go away!" she shrieked. He'd never heard her voice sound like that before. She had told him she'd hated him with less vitriol than that.

"Usagi, I'm so sorry," he said, not touching her, but still kneeling beside her, bowing his head to his knees to show her how deep his remorse was.

"You don't even know what you're apologizing for," she spat, her contempt evident in every syllable.

He recoiled from it. How could this even be the same Usagi he'd known for all these months.

"How could you?" she continued in the same tone, not looking at him, but staring blinding, tears still coursing down her cheeks. "How could you know what it feels like to be inferior to everyone else, and to have that inferiority rubbed into your face every. Single. DAY!?" Her voice rose as she continued.

Mamoru suddenly thought back on everything he always said to her, all the things he teased her about, and remembered being the poor orphan child, with no home, no memories and his heart clenched in his chest.

"I might surprise you," he said with a dry, bitter laugh. She did turn to him then, a look of scorn on her face.

"I doubt it."

So he told her. In short, concise sentences, in the fewest words possible.

And he learned that naked, Usagi was truly beautiful. Because even though she had a deep well of horrors inside herself that he would never have guessed she carried beneath the perpetually sunny exterior, she had the most compassionate heart beating inside her chest. She reached out, pulled him towards her, and crushed him into a hug that felt at once warm and welcoming and forgiving. And he knew that tomorrow, this moment would be over, and he should savour it. Tomorrow they would go back to their normal behaviour. Because only for today would he permit her to see him as naked as she was permitting him to see her.


	4. 001 Taste

**001. Taste**  
**Milkshake**  
**Words: 440**  
**11/22/12**

"Just a little one?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

"C'mon, I'll never call you Odango ever again," he swore, laughing down at her.

"As tempting as that is, I still could get your germs."

"What germs? I'm very healthy, I promise!"

"HA!" she spat, looking up at him.

The milkshake was clutched protectively to her chest. It was the last one Motoki would be making for a long, long time. He was leaving the arcade to spend a year with Reika in Africa, and everyone was celebrating his going away at the annual Christmas party at the arcade. Mamoru was looking down at the milkshake with undisguised longing and she grabbed it tighter.

"It's tradition," he whispered, looking at her with something like desperation in his face now. "And you're making us both look very, very foolish right now."

Those bright blue eyes looked at him in confusion.

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy, Usagi-chan, just kiss him already and get it over with!" Minako shouted and pointed above their heads. Usagi looked up and saw now that Mamoru hadn't been trying to take her milkshake – they'd gotten caught under the mistletoe, and everyone had frozen in some kind of sick fascination to see how it would play out.

"Fine," she muttered under her breath, "but you so owe me for this, baka!"

He leaned down and rolled his eyes. "Shut your eyes, Usagi-chan, or it's not going to count and they'll make you do it again," he warned.

She closed her eyes tightly as a child hiding from a horror film. He stifled a laugh and leaned down to place a light kiss on her nose.

There were loud boos from the entire party. He sighed and dropped another kiss on her lips, sticky with gloss and chocolate. He pulled back. "Is everyone happy now?" he demanded.

"No!" Usagi shouted, while around her the crowd cheered. They both rolled their eyes at the ridiculous behaviour of their friends.

"You were right to guard that milkshake so fiercely," he said, licking his lips. "It's very good."

She focused on his lips, watching as his tongue lapped the last of the chocolate and the berry flavoured gloss she wore off. She offered the tall glass to him wordlessly, and he happily took a big sip.

"Not worried about germs anymore?" he teased.

"I figure I just got my booster shot," she said, batting her lashes and walking away, swatting Minako in the arm and whispering heatedly at the other blonde when she reached her. He couldn't help it; his face broke into a grin.


	5. 039 Ripple

**039. Ripple**  
**Not-So-Mistaken Identities**  
**Words: 595**  
**11/23/12**

There it was again. He was sure the curtains in his room were moving, but he knew he'd closed the window before he went to sleep. He pulled out a rose, a diamond-hard point ready to impale whoever was hiding behind the sheers the instant he got close enough.

He shifted slightly, as though rolling in his sleep, waiting for the person to move again, to be sure there was actually someone there, that his sleep-fogged brain hadn't been fooling him, but the moon chose that moment to come from behind the clouds and grant him a clear view of the perfect silhouette of the figure hiding in his bedroom.

Short, definitely female, and an unmistakable hairstyle, surrounded by the same haze that haunted his dreams every night. "Princess," he breathed. The rose fell to the floor, unheeded, but as it did, he realized there was something wrong.

The outline wasn't quite right. It was the skirt, he realized a moment too late. It was short, hitting just below her hips, leaving her legs bare. It wasn't the billowing ballgown the princess in his dreams usually wore. And when she turned slightly in the moonlight, he could see a streamer of ribbon falling from behind her, and the vague outline of a bow. Not the Princess, then, but Sailor Moon.

And he'd dropped his rose.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, dropping all pretense and sitting up.

"I followed you after the battle," she admitted. "I smelled the roses and I just – followed. I don't know why. The girls would be furious if they knew." She laughed then, and something in the laugh was familiar; he wanted to place it, could almost see the face that it went with, but it slipped away like his dreams always did.

"That still doesn't explain why you climbed in my window," he replied tersely. "You wouldn't, by any chance, be looking for those crystals?" he asked shortly, grateful that his bed wasn't bathed in moonlight, that she couldn't possibly know who he was.

"The crystals?" she asked, her voice innocent. "No. I really wasn't looking for them."

Again that nagging familiarity, that sense that he knew this voice. Why was it only now, in the darkness, behind the curtain, that she seemed so familiar?

"Then why?" he asked again.

Her voice lowered, and she hung her head. The posture was so familiar that he suddenly sat up straighter. Why hadn't he seen it before? "I just wanted to know who you were," she finally admitted. "To know why you always save me."

"You haven't figured it out yet?" he asked, his voice taking on a tone he used only with one person, a haughty, teasing tone that would surely, surely tell her who he was – if he was right. And he was positive, now that he was. The hair, the laughter, the pose of extreme dejection; his mind began to add up other similarities in rapid calculations and wonder why he hadn't made the connection before.

"No," she whispered. "But, if you'll show me yours, I'll show you mine," she offered.

"Tempting," he said, biting back laughter at the innocence in the phrasing. He was definitely right. "But you've already given yourself away."

"Well, then you have to tell me!" she said, her voice rising.

"Oi, lower the decibels, Odango!" he said, not thinking of identities, just enjoying their usual banter.

She came out from behind the curtain then, stepping fully into the moonlight, and pulled him out of his bed by his arm. "Mamoru-baka!?" she shrieked.


	6. 088 Black

**088. Black**  
**Black**  
**Words: 176**  
**11/23/12**

His armour. His roses. His eyes. His soul.

This wasn't her Endymion. This wasn't even Mamoru. This was some evil creature created by Metalia. Looking down at him as he had his hands around her throat, holding her off the ground, choking the life out of her, she knew that the person she had grown to love in this life was as dead as the Prince she'd loved in the last one. All that remained was this demon servant of the Great Evil.

This embodiment of her most hated colour of them all: black.

He dropped her, threw her, kicked her, and prepared to cut her down with the same sword she now knew she'd taken her own life with in the past life. For a moment, she allowed herself a moment of wry amusement at that. A tinkle from her chest reminded her of the locket and she took it out.

If she was going to die at the hands of this _creature_ that Metalia created, at least she could try to save him, too.


	7. 023 Myth

**023. Myth**  
**Roses on the Moon**  
**Words: 457**  
**11/24/12**

"Wait, Odango actually did her homework for a change?" Mamoru asked, staring at Motoki as though the world had finally come to a stop.

"Yeah, and then she left it here yesterday. She spent most of the afternoon working on it. I think she's going to be really upset. I guess they were studying ancient legends or something and had to make up something – I remember Ami-chan telling me something about it a week or so ago," he said.

"That grin says you think Odango's is – unique," Mamoru said, an evil smile crossing his face. Anything to tease his favourite enemy.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Motoki answered with a laugh. "Though it's pretty creative. I think the subject matter, on the other hand, might interest you more than anything else."

He dropped the paper in front of Mamoru and left to clean out the storage room.

_The Mythology of the Rose  
By Tsukino Usagi_

_Some romances are fated to failure. But it is because of one of those failures that we have the most beautiful flower to exist: the rose. A long time ago, there was a Princess who lived on the Moon who fell in love with a Prince who lived on the Earth. But they were not fated to be together. The Prince wanted to give his lover something so special that she would never forget him, so he travelled to the land of dreams to find something more beautiful than anything that could be found in either of their lands. There, the guardian of dreams told him that he would give him two rose bushes, one for his window and one for hers, and as long as their love remained, the roses would continue to grow and bloom. He took the plants and planted them where the guardian told him to, but he and his lover were parted and the roses continued to grow, so he knew that she still loved him. Even now, if you know where to look, you can find roses growing on the moon._

Mamoru looked up at Motoki, startled. "Gives your tattoo a whole new meaning, doesn't it?" the other man said, laughing as Mamoru clutched his right arm oddly. As far as he was aware, only he and Motoki knew that he had a tattoo of a crescent moon with a climbing rose there. She couldn't possibly…could she?

"Did you tell her?" he asked.

"No, to be honest, I don't think she knows, I think she just made it up out of her head. She's always done it – made up stories I mean," Motoki said, humming a little as he wiped the counter. "It's just odd – 'roses growing on the moon'," he quoted.

"Odd," Mamoru agreed.

* * *

A/N: If the idea of Mamoru with that particular tattoo sounds vaguely familiar, you've probably read Silver and Steel. No, I have no updates in the works. I'm still trying to work my way out of the corner I wrote myself into. I'm using these drabbles to inspire that particular muse, as a matter of fact. *loves*


	8. 071 Time

**071. Time**  
**A Simple Wish**  
**Words: 376**  
**12/4/12**

A lost year. Sometimes she cried when on her birthday, and she couldn't answer her parents when they asked why. How could she explain that while they were celebrating her fifteenth birthday, she was really turning sixteen? That she was repeating the ninth grade, not because she'd failed it, but because she'd made a wish? All she'd wanted was for everyone to lead a normal life, free of the influences of the past. So the whole world forgot the year that the Dark Kingdom had attacked and tried to take over – except her. Luna and Artemis still remembered, of course, and without her powers, Minako had no use for a talking white cat, so the feline had moved in with her, as well.

The three had stood ready to repel whatever forces had come, but after that, there were none. Tsukino Usagi never had to become Sailor Moon again. Without the bond of the Sailor Senshi, the five girls with vastly different backgrounds never again became friends. Kino Makoto never moved to Juuban, in fact. Hino Rei had no need to befriend the frequent visitor to her grandfather's shrine, though Usagi tried to talk to her on several occasions. Now that they were no longer fellow Senshi, Mizuno Ami could not be coaxed out of her books to make friends, and Aino Minako got a recording contract in London and became a pop idol.

Usagi was alone. She knew that there were some remnants of memories left in her friends, though. She could still see Rei reading the Sacred Fire from time to time, and Ami smiled at her regretfully when she declined her invitations to join her for shakes at Crown. And Mamoru – but Usagi couldn't think about Mamoru for too long. She'd wanted to believe that given enough time, the fated romance, free of the influence of Serenity and Endymion, would still come to pass, but it had been almost ten years, and it had not. Mamoru had gone to America to study medicine, and he had not returned.

To the world, Tsukino Usagi was twenty-three, nearly twenty-four, though she knew herself to be a year older than that, and she was still waiting on a man who would never exist except in memories.


End file.
